Reid trotted over to the utility room next to the kitchen and started the washer.
As he poured detergent into the filling tub, he asked, “You mean you had Harold make you something and you put it on the plates?” He dumped the sheets into the washer and closed the lid.
When he turned back to her, he never expected to see her look so disappointed, so hurt. The beaming smile she wore when she presented the food to him had now dropped down to a frown. Her bottom lip looked like it quivered. The light that had been in her eyes had now been extinguished. With a few words, he’d crushed her, and he didn’t mean to hurt her.
“No. I made it myself. I thought I would surprise you.” She slammed the plates down. “Now I’m not so hungry.” Cynda walked around the bar.
Today she wore jeans that looked painted onto her body, a tight, white turtleneck, and white hiking boots. She looked…normal. Cute, but normal.
“I guess I’ll see you around.” She snatched her coat from the couch. “Or not.”
When she stormed out of his chalet, Reid developed a sick feeling in his stomach. How could he have hurt her that way? How could he have known she’d actually cooked for him? The last time she tried that, she’d set the food and kitchen on fire.
Reid peered into his kitchen to look for carryout boxes from the resort’s restaurant or even signs of smoke damage. Nothing. He opened the dishwasher and found her dirty dishes stacked inside, waiting for other items to join them.
Had Cynda changed? After all these years, did she now want to settle down and be with Reid?
No. Cynda had an agenda. He glanced at the plates. The speckled pancakes had him wondering if she’d made him blueberry pancakes, his favorite. Next to it sat a mound of scrambled eggs with a distinctive orange color swirled through them.
Cynda remembered the cheese in his eggs. Between the eggs and pancakes lay four strips of crispy bacon. Reid picked up a slice of bacon and took a bite. Damn good.
He ran out of the house after her. Then he slowed down. She could be making a fool of him again. Her visit would be temporary. To cut down the confusion, he would have to find her another place to stay. How would he explain that to her father?
Damn. Damn.
Reid reached the front desk and greeted his employees as he passed them. He stepped behind the desk and punched in some information on a computer.
“Come on. One cancellation. Just one.” Reid scratched his head.
When the information he entered produced no evidence of what he wanted, he shook his head. Reid must have been concentrating on the screen too hard. He felt a sharp slap on his arm that broke his concentration.
“Hey!” Reid turned and saw Josie standing next to him. “What was that for?”
“I’ve been calling you for the last minute and you haven’t even flinched until I popped you. What’s going on with you?” Josie put her fist on her hip.
“I should be mad with you.” Reid stepped into his office and nodded for Josie to follow him. When she did, he laid into her. “Thanks, friend.”
“What?” She shrugged.
“How could you not only let Cynda into my place but not even tell me she was here?” Reid squared off in front of Josie.
“Sit your behind down and let me explain myself, Monkey.”
The woman stood a foot and a half shorter than him, but she still carried an intimidating stance. In a casual and slow manner, Reid strolled to his desk chair and sat down. He did it out of respect and not the fact that, at times, the woman made him feel like a kid who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
“I was just as shocked as you were when she showed up. The place is all booked up. She said she would stay in the spare bedroom. Did she?”
Reid cocked his head. From the way Josie shook her head, she must have picked up on his unspoken answer.
“And why couldn’t she stay with you?” he asked.
“My place is, well, um, you see, uh—”
“Stan. I know.” Reid shook his head. “I don’t need this right now. I have too much going on.”
“Is she keeping you from doing your job?” Josie sat at the corner of his desk.
“Now that she’s here, I can’t concentrate.” Cynda consumed Reid’s thoughts now that she came back into his life. “What is she doing here now? She’s never spends her holidays here. Hell, she’s never even sent me a Christmas card or e-mail to wish me a happy holiday. She cut me out of her life and then out of the blue just shows up. It’s bizarre.”
Josie cleared her throat and stood. “So I guess you two didn’t, uh—”
“Come on, Josie.” Heat filled Reid’s face. Without looking into a mirror, he knew his pale face turned every shade of red imaginable. Even if he and Cynda had sex, he couldn’t admit that to his friend.
Josie raised her hands in the air. “Hey, just had to ask.”
“I can’t really trust her. I don’t know what her motives are. She got up this morning and made me breakfast.”
“Blueberry pancakes?”
Reid blinked. “How did you know?”
Josie chuckled. “I used to make it for you to get you to do certain chores I didn’t like. Did you really like mucking out the horse stalls at the Richmond house?”
He thought about what he and Cynda did in that stable. A smile hitched at the corner of his mouth. Damn, no wonder whenever he got blueberry pancakes he thought about sex, specifically sex with Cynda.
“You should be ashamed of yourself, Josie.” Reid wagged his finger at her. “Getting a child to do your manual labor.”
She laughed. “Don’t think I don’t know what you two did after you ate my pancakes. You two are something else.”
The slight mention of Cynda had him thinking about her again.
“I just don’t get why she’s here.” Reid leaned back in his chair.
“I have an idea.” Josie leaned on his desk and in a whisper said, “Ask her.”
Reid rolled his head back. “You and Cynda are so annoying.”
Josie cackled as she walked out of his office. “You know I’m right.”
“I will never understand women!” he screamed after her.
As much as he hated to admit it, Reid wouldn’t figure out this mystery until he sat down and talked to Cynda. At this point, he didn’t know if she would even give him the time of day. Only one way to find out.
* * * * *
Cynda kept up her smile as she dealt with the guests on the slopes. She’d been skiing since the age of five, and when she’d seen the itinerary for the singles side of this event, she’d happily decided to tackle the ski portion. For one thing, being on the slopes would keep her away from pinhead Reid.
Cynda couldn’t believe that he’d accused her of not making his breakfast. She couldn’t sleep thinking about all the great things she would do for him while visiting him. Now she wondered why she bothered making the trip.
Then she remembered Reid’s sexy body from last night. He’d gained some muscle. His smooth chest begged to be touched. Pressing her lips against his collarbone whetted her appetite for more. She tasted the saltiness of his skin. From the way he moaned, he must have wanted more from her too.
When she hugged him last night, she liked feeling his hard body against hers. He’d definitely grown up since their teenage years. Cynda wanted to kick herself for all the time she wasted staying away from him.
A couple of key factors from last night stuck in her mind. First she recalled feeling his long, thick cock hard against her stomach. Then and now, wetness oozed from the apex of her thighs. Her body ached to have him.
Then she remembered how he held her. Loose at first, then as soon as she latched on to him, he held her tighter. Cynda felt so secure in his arms, despite the fact that he tried not hugging her at first.
The more she thought about their interaction this morning, something else hit her: Reid had loaded his sheets into the washer. Cynda thought about what that may have meant and had to smile. So he did r
eact to her.
She pulled her hat down over her head. A hair curl brushed against her cheek. Thank goodness she brought her plain Jane wigs, or what she considered to be her more subdued wigs. If wearing it made Reid happy, she would do it.
Speaking of making Reid happy, Cynda had a class to teach. She’d heard some rumblings from a few guests about being bored while at Village Resorts. Not on her watch. She took a deep breath then started her training session.
“If you want to ski the more challenging slopes, I would strongly suggest that you take the advanced ski class that’s offered in the main building.” Cynda addressed the group of people standing in their skis around her.
Some of the people gave her the “recognition blink,” others looked at their partners with adoration. She wanted Reid to look at her like that.
Reid. He had changed. She couldn’t think about him right now. She had a class full of people looking at her to teach them something.
For this class, she would only show them the basics. Nothing more basic than how to fall. Cynda dropped to her backside, then waited for the rest of the class to follow.
One by one they each dropped on their butts. To see them comply brought out a smile, not only in Cynda but to her students as well. People actually listened to her and took what she said seriously. She just wished Reid could do that. More importantly, she wished her father could see her.
“Are you going to teach us more than how to fall?” a man asked.
Cynda gazed at him. The attractive-looking African-American man winked at her.
“Stop.” Cynda stood up from the icy, packed snow. “Or rather, how to stop. Besides how to fall, learning how to stop is equally important.”
Cynda started skiing down a small hill, then turned her skis inward without her knees touching. “You want to make a ‘V’ with your skis with the wider part of the ‘V’ behind you. Don’t let your knees touch. I know it’s automatic to lock your knees together, especially when you’re scared. In this case, you don’t want to do that.” She turned back around to the group.
The man who had asked if they would be learning anything else dropped his hand behind his back and smiled.
Cynda had been around the paparazzi long enough to know how to spot one. Instead of pulling him aside and asking him to not release the video or picture he took, she decided to act even more normal.
Celebrities doing normal things seemed to be exciting for a moment, but if the celebrities kept it up, it became boring. Cynda did promise Reid that she wouldn’t cause him any problems, intentionally or unintentionally.
The class went on without any hitches, including with the spy paparazzo. After the class, Cynda ducked into the restaurant kitchen. Even with all the noise and activity of the kitchen, she loved the vibe in there, how each person worked in synchronicity with the others like a gear in a machine. Harold had to be the heart of that machine.
He called out each order and dressed each plate. As soon as he saw Cynda he smiled.
Cynda would never get enough of seeing the hulking strawberry-blond-haired man with matching trimmed beard. In the gay community, he would be labeled as a “bear.” That bear loved his “otters.” Otters, or slender gay men, couldn’t get enough of him.
“Hello, my lovely.” He kissed her cheek before placing four plates of food on a serving platter and dispatching a waitress to her table. “What are you doing here?”
“Need food.” She pointed to her belly.
“You could eat out there with the unwashed masses.” He nodded to the very full dining room.
“And have me getting snapped by a pap eating a piece of shrimp? No way.” She shook her head.
“You know your father enacted that no-paparazzi ruling for all of his resorts. He liked that New Orleans has strict laws about it, and he wanted to keep his family protected. There are signs posted everywhere.”
Cynda nodded. Good to know. Now if she saw that guy again from the slopes this morning, she can give him a friendly warning. Post her picture and be dragged to court.
“Why don’t you go eat with Mr. Weller?” He nodded to the back.
When she didn’t see anyone at the chef’s table, she shook her head. “Where does he eat? The stockroom?”
“Yep.” Harold sent out another tray of food.
“I don’t think he wants to eat with me. I made him breakfast this morning, and he accused me of having you make it for me.” Just the thought of it still stung her.
“Really? It was that good?” He winked at her. “What did you make?”
“Blueberry pancakes.” Cynda knew how much Reid loved them. She remembered distinctly the summer after they graduated from high school that every time Josie made him blueberry pancakes that he couldn’t keep his hands off Cynda.
“Oh, now that’s what I call ho cakes.”
Damn, did everyone know about Reid’s unnatural aphrodisiac? “How did you know?”
“Josie told me that back in the day she could Reid to do all of the stable work by making him pancakes. Then she walked in on the two of you and figured out why he got excited when she fed him blueberry pancakes.” In between fits of laughter, Harold yelled at one of his sous chefs while piling food on a plate.
Cynda made the mistake of reaching for a piece of steak she saw on a tray by Harold’s stack of white plates. He promptly smacked the back of her hand, sending a stinging sensation up her arm.
“Cook yourself something. Don’t let all that training go to waste.”
Cynda had almost forgotten that Harold knew about her culinary background. Then again, her friend had pulled strings to get her into a prestigious cooking school.
“Stay out of the way.” He leaned over and whispered. “Don’t break his heart.”
Cynda crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m getting tired of people saying that to me.”
“And we’re getting tired of seeing him moping around here. Except for today. Today he looks a bit disheveled. Wonder why.” He winked at her.
She glanced at the door as though Reid could see her, judging her, potentially hating her, not understanding her. Cynda wanted to blame the fact that she didn’t feel comfortable talking to Reid now on Reid. She had changed. Cynda hadn’t reconciled in her head what that change meant to her.
“What is up with you?” Harold nudged Cynda with his elbow. “I’ve never known you to not be able to talk to Reid, except, well—”
“Okay!” Cynda stopped him before he called her a heartless bitch in so many words. Did anyone think to call Reid a coward for not going away with her?
As instructed, she made herself some food, a simple cod dish. She took some of the already prepared garnish to the chagrin of the sous chefs. Cynda approached the stockroom door. She stood there with her plate of food and a glass of white wine. She wanted so much to just open the door and see Reid, talk to him, tell him why being there with him meant more to her than anything else.
She couldn’t open the door. She couldn’t face him just yet. Earlier in the day before she taught the ski class, she’d gotten a call from Edwin, her friend who’d wanted to talk to her about her potential business. For all she knew, he could have been trying to tell her Merry Christmas and not talk about business. She couldn’t answer his call. She couldn’t even make herself listen to his voice-mail message.
“Excuse me.” An assistant moved by her and opened the door.
Inside she saw Reid sitting at an island alone with a light over his slumped head. He covered his plate of food as though someone had plans on taking it away from him. When he gazed up and spotted her, she froze for a moment.
They stared at each other before he put his foot on the floor to stand up from the stool. Then she bolted. She ran to the housekeeping room, sat on one of the folding tables in the room, and instead of eating, brought her knees up to her chest and put her head down.
Talking to Reid had never been hard. Why couldn’t she be open to him now? She had to figure it out. She didn’t have that
much time.
* * * * *
Except for at lunch, Reid hadn’t seen Cynda throughout the day. He did hear about her all day. He heard Cynda taught the ski class. She also helped with the snowboarding slopes. True to her word, she did stay out of his way and assisted him where she could.
The single people who walked by him, though, did not look happy. When he asked a few guests about their stay, they raved about the accommodations and the food. They complimented the professional staff. Each one of them complained about the activities.
Graham had planned the singles’ events. That wouldn’t matter if the event bombed. It would be Reid’s fault. He could see the writing on the wall.
Reid pulled out his phone to check the chatter on a social media site. One person posted “Yawn Fest.” Another person wrote that they hoped the Christmas tree-lighting ceremony brought life to the place. At a comment about there not being any fun events going on for singles, Reid started to type a message about the fun events the next day like that speed-skating activity that Graham seemed proud to have created. Then he heard some laughter and clapping.
Reid strolled over to The Drift, the resort’s club. The noises coming out of the place forced him to go from a casual stroll to an impatient trot. He stood in the doorway at the club and looked to the stage area. There he saw a couple with microphones in their hands singing “Summer Lovin’” from the movie Grease.
Reid stopped the club manager. “Karaoke? I didn’t even know we had the machine, and it’s not on the itinerary.”
The manager shrugged. “It was her idea.” She pointed to a woman with fiery red hair with her back to them. “Can’t say no to her, you know.”
The redhead turned around. Cynda. Of course. Josie must have let her into his chalet again. Not only had Cynda changed her hair color, she also had on a different outfit. Now she wore a black corset dress and a pair of stacked, red booties.
Cynda made eye contact with him. Instead of running off like she had this morning and the afternoon, she smiled at him then made her way to the stage.
“Are you folks having a good time?” Cynda asked in the microphone. She smoothed her hand down the front of her tight dress.
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